


Not in That Way

by boonies



Category: JYJ (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2651198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NaNoWriMo #5: "our asshole mutual friends set us up on a blind date and didn't tell us it was a blind date, so instead of getting to know each other we spent the entire 'date' scheming against them and decided an awesome way to get back at them would be to pretend to date and then have a horrendous breakup but now that we're two months into this charade we're not sure what's real and what's fake anymore" AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not in That Way

  * fake dating AU, as [tagged](http://jaendoe.tumblr.com/post/102672864187/tickatocka-how-about-a-our-asshole-mutual) by [jaendoe](http://tmblr.co/mGK4PddbZzou995QWbyS1ZQ)



 

 

 

 

*

 

All Yoochun said was, "Junsu—is that a bald spot."

 

And all Junsu said, after frantically examining his nonexistent bald spot, was, "...come to Bum's tonight."

 

And all Yoochun said was, "Why, is Yihan screening his play there."

 

And all Yihan said was, "...Yoochunnie, just come."

 

Which is why Yoochun's plastered against a dinky corner booth now, half-blind and not entirely sober, openly gaping at a dude made of glitter.

 

"...I'm straight," the dude greets, unamused, and volleys a wilted bouquet at the table.

 

"Me, too," Yoochun offers because he is and that's important, and glances at the scattering of withered petals dipping into his banchan. "You lost your... flowers..."

 

"They're for you," the dude sighs, voice rough and raspy. "Apparently."

 

"...those dickbags," Yoochun growls.

 

*

 

 

"So what did you do, Jaejoong-ssi."

 

Done with life, the dude—Jaejoong—squints at a shot glass. "I borrowed Junsu's car."

 

Yoochun winces. "I called him bald."

 

Jaejoong cracks up, eyes sparkling. "What did you do to hyung."

 

Unrepentant, Yoochun grins. "Implied no one's gonna watch his play."

 

"Well. No one's gonna watch his play," Jaejoong agrees callously, then slumps. "I rejected his sister."

 

"You deserve this," Yoochun points out.

 

"No offense," Jaejoong says, "but I don't deserve... this."

 

Wow, Yoochun thinks, because some guys are really conceited, and proposes, "Here's what we do."

 

 

*

 

 

"—gonna give it a shot."

 

"What," Junsu blinks, tearing nervously at a napkin.

 

"Jaejoong-hyung and me," Yoochun says with exaggerated interest, eyes sharp, gut twisted with a sick sort of vengeful pleasure. "It was honestly love at first sight."

 

"What," Junsu repeats, quieter.

 

Pieces of the shredded napkin in his lap drift to the floor.

 

"Actually," Yoochun says flippantly, probably pushing it, "we're thinking of moving in together."

 

Junsu turns an odd unhealthy color. "...you met last night."

 

"The heart wants," Yoochun waxes poetically, leaning on one palm and slowly circling his index finger around the rim of his coffee cup, "what it wants." He fixes his eyes on Junsu's face, challenge clear. "Unless you have any objections."

 

"...none..."

 

*

 

 

 _13:37_ _how'd it go_

 

Yoochun grins at his phone with devilish glee and sends _he's not buying it, come over_.

 

 

*

 

 

"...it's just... that it's so, uh... sudden..." Yihan starts awkwardly, glancing between the two, "...and probably also because you said you're... straight...?"

 

"Labels," Jaejoong waves him off, cavalier, scooting his chair closer to Yoochun's.

 

"The stigma," Yoochun nods, impressively serene, and slings a possessive arm around Jaejoong's warm shoulder, "is something we're willing to deal with. I can't give Jaejoongie up."

 

Yihan pales.

 

Overly demure, Jaejoong averts his eyes in true professional fashion, skinny knee banging against Yoochun's.

 

"Even though you set us up as a joke," he says like he's a character in some manhwa, meeting Yoochun's gaze under thick lashes and covering Yoochun's hand with a warm soft palm, "and even though it's going to be tough, we're ready to face society head-on."

 

Yihan opens his mouth, sweat beading on his forehead.

 

He raises a shaky palm, then meticulously lowers it, speechless.

 

Yoochun tries not to cackle.

 

 

*

 

 

"We're shaving ten years off their lives," he tells Jaejoong on the way out, holding the door.

 

Jaejoong ducks under his arm, grinning, giddy, glowing. "Good."

 

Equally pleased, Yoochun glances over his shoulder at the blurry Yihan-shaped wreck behind them and firmly grabs Jaejoong's wrist.

 

Jaejoong freezes.

 

"He's looking," Yoochun explains conspiratorially, spying through the window and shamelessly soaking in Yihan's broken silhouette.

 

Jaejoong curls his fingers.

 

An elderly woman ambles by and glowers at them with a nasty side-eye, and then the next thing Yoochun knows, his fingers are twining with Jaejoong's, weirdly flexible, kind of like his knuckles are breaking and remaking themselves around Jaejoong's.

 

His heart briefly beats around an unfamiliar pang, to the distinctive loud rhythm of _mis-take_ , and then he's pressing their joined hands to the window and tapping the glass with a wicked vindictive smile.

 

Bleary-eyed, Yihan looks up.

 

Unprompted, Jaejoong matches Yoochun's demented grin, knuckles oddly white.

 

Insincere, Yihan musters a tiny supportive smile.

 

 

*

 

 

" _No_ ," Yoochun insists, annoyed, steering Junsu away from the kittens, "I was serious. I looked at him and just... knew."

 

Junsu claws at the air, making desperate grabby hands at a lone fluffy kitten helplessly pawing at its cage across the room. "Knew _what_ , Yoochunnie, you're—"

 

One of the new dogs launches itself at Yoochun, vaulting over the shoddily-installed gate, and smacks into his chest, paws digging into his sweater, tail wagging maniacally.

 

Sleepy, Yoochun gently lowers the dog to the ground, lecturing through a sudden bout of allergic sniffles, "Dude, you'll never get adopted like this."

 

The dog gives a soft whine and obediently walks itself back into its kennel.

 

Junsu pauses.

 

"Yeah," he agrees slowly, pondering aloud. "Actually. Yeah. You and hyung are sort of perfect for each other. I guess."

 

Yoochun's practically forgotten what they've been talking about so he flips the _we're closed_ sign and snaps the blinds shut. "Sure."

 

"I mean," Junsu babbles, gaining momentum, trailing behind him, arms flapping in a wide enthusiastic sweep, "you run a rescue, he runs a restaurant, it's—"

 

"He runs a what," Yoochun yawns absentmindedly. "Who."

 

"...a restaurant," Junsu narrows his eyes, suspicious. "Your new... boyfriend," he manages with distaste, pocketing a persistent mewling kitten, "—wait, how do you not know—"

 

"Too busy fucking to talk," Yoochun deadpans, herding a fat one-eared bunny back into its corral.

 

Junsu recoils.

 

 

*

 

 

_Where's your restaurant._

 

Ten minutes later, Yoochun's poking his head into a modest hole-in-the-wall shop, nostrils flaring.

 

The place is tiny but the scent of salt and sugar lingers, thick and heavy and Yoochun pulls up a chair directly by the counter, suddenly starving.

 

He means to study the menu above his head but ends up watching Jaejoong's back, shoulder blades flexing under a thin gray shirt, skintight apron drawn around his waist like a bandage, jeans sagging to reveal a narrow strip of Disney-themed boxers.

 

"Hyung," Yoochun says because that's... it's just too much.

 

Startled, Jaejoong turns, spatula clutched in one hand, face adorably disoriented, gaze softening when his eyes settle on Yoochun.

 

A sudden razor-sharp twinge splits Yoochun's ribcage in half.

 

"I figured it out," Jaejoong says without preamble and slams the spatula to the counter, sending a pair of chopsticks flying into a bamboo basin.

 

Several customers jump.

 

"We'll break up on Christmas Eve," Jaejoong fumes, adorably oblivious, and slides a steaming plate of noodles at Yoochun on auto-pilot.

 

Yoochun's fingers wrap around a pair of proffered chopsticks just as naturally. "Okay."

 

"For maximum shock value," Jaejoong amends, obviously having mapped the whole thing out, "we'll have a massive fight _right in front of them_." He clenches his fist and gazes off into the distance, expression ridiculously tense. "I hope they feel so bad they buy me a new set of chairs."

 

Yoochun shifts atop his creaky stool. "Brutal."

 

Jaejoong meets his eyes.

 

His features harden.

 

"Yihan's gonna be here in five," he warns with an abrupt distant coldness, "so eat fast and act like you're in love with me."

 

Yoochun's pretty done with this whole fake dating thing and he's very magnanimously forgiven Yihan and Junsu their trespasses so he stuffs a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and mumbles around it, "Listen, maybe we should just—oh, _fuck me_."

 

Jaejoong pauses, concerned.

 

Basically choking on it, Yoochun shovels more in, taste buds drenched in flavor and heat, sparking an instant kind of trust.

 

Jaejoong stares.

 

"I should've introduced you sooner," Yihan greets cautiously, jabbing his elbow into Yoochun's spine and plonking down onto the stool next to him.

 

"You should've," Jaejoong grins easily, turning back to the grill.

 

Yoochun can only manage a lopsided smile, bending to protectively hug his plate.

 

 

*

 

 

The animals scatter.

 

Yoochun glances at the door, nose buried in a stack of poorly-requisitioned forms.

 

Jaejoong's lurking by the entrance, two cups of coffee held in his gaudy bright mittens, shawl and beanie mismatched, eyes wide and gluttonous.

 

"...good morning..." Yoochun says and tries not to smile, tries very hard, but Jaejoong makes an unsteady beeline for a baby owl.

 

The owl flaps one broken wing at him, horrified, and uselessly scrambles to fly off.

 

"Can I have it," Jaejoong asks breathlessly, bent over the enclosure, cheeks pink with cold.

 

Yoochun almost says yes.

 

 

*

 

 

_18:40 junsu's gonna be at homeplus_

 

_18:40 meet me there at eight_

 

 

*

 

 

"This is ridiculous."

 

"I needed to go shopping anyway," Jaejoong points out mildly, pushing the cart down the aisle.

 

"Okay, me, too," Yoochun concedes, helping, "but do we really need to—"

 

"Why," Junsu whines behind them, "are you everywhere."

 

"So you can enjoy our domestic bliss," Jaejoong smiles innocently and cocks his head before turning around to stare Junsu down. "Since you helped create it."

 

Yoochun forces his mouth to stretch into a non-menacing smile.

 

Junsu falters.

 

"Yes..." he grumbles grudgingly, eyeing their cart and the neat pile within it, "I'm happy you clicked so... fast."

 

Actually.

 

Yeah.

 

Yoochun's never clicked with anyone this fast.

 

He doesn't actually know the dude beyond the basics, but his shoulder tends to brush against Jaejoong's and it doesn't feel too gross.

 

"Yeah," Jaejoong agrees and slips a hand down the back of Yoochun's jeans, fingers casually hooking around a belt loop, "I couldn't live without him."

 

Junsu scrunches up his nose.

 

Jaejoong glances to the side, and Yoochun clocks his expression, reads it perfectly somehow.

 

"Junsu-yah," he says sincerely, wrapping an arm around Jaejoong's shoulder, skin heating under his sweater, "thank you for finding him for me."

 

Jaejoong muffles a snort.

 

 

*

 

 

_18:12 where do you live_

 

Panicked, Yoochun replies only after kicking a skein of yarn under the couch and stashing the needles strewn across the table under the cushions.

 

Five minutes later, Jaejoong's tentatively poking his head into Yoochun's house, toeing off his boots and shoving a plastic container at Yoochun's chest.

 

"Leftovers," he tells Yoochun with casual grace, glancing around, eyes narrowing appreciatively. "It's clean."

 

Offended, Yoochun gestures at the couch. "Am I Junsu."

 

Grinning, Jaejoong politely takes a seat and Yoochun would like to act like a proper host but the plastic lid of the container is peeling off and Yoochun's mouth is dry with want, so he hastily pads into the kitchen and digs out whatever utensils he can find, starving.

 

"I was thinking," Jaejoong says as Yoochun slinks back, clearly gratified, eyes trained on Yoochun's greedy hands and mouth with obvious pride, "we should throw a dinner party."

 

"Okay," Yoochun agrees because the back of his throat is burning beautifully.

 

"You, me," Jaejoong lists, lips twitching uncontrollably, "Junsu, Yihan—"

 

Yoochun tips the container at his mouth with an obscene little noise.

 

"...yeah, you're not listening," Jaejoong smiles and sinks into the couch like he bought it.

 

 

*

 

 

"Do I have to," Junsu whines, returning a kitten.

 

"It's free food," Yoochun argues, incredulous, booting Junsu out of the way as the delivery-hyung hauls in a stack of kibble, "made by _Jaejoong_."

 

Junsu rolls his eyes but his mouth curls up. "Gross."

 

"Have you _tried_ his cooking," Yoochun snaps, irritated.

 

"I meant you," Junsu points out fondly.

 

Delivery-hyung lumbers back, offering Yoochun a pen to sign. "Who's cooking gross food."

 

"Yoochun's Jaejoong," Junsu shares, unfiltered.

 

The words process slowly but when they do, spoken so effortlessly in conversation, they send an automatic horrible flush through Yoochun, obliterating rational thought.

 

Mortified, he opens his mouth to correct Junsu.

 

"That sounds like a man..." delivery-hyung says stiffly.

 

"Because it is..." Junsu says after a wary beat.

 

Delivery-hyung assesses Yoochun for a moment, then shrugs, "Alright."

 

 

 

*

 

 

"I'll cook," Jaejoong says.

 

"I'll clean," Yoochun says.

 

 

 

*

 

 

The sink is full of dishes and the kitchen is drenched in a perfect combination of spices by the time Yoochun remembers he doesn't live alone.

 

"Yoochunnie," his mother asks, standing in the doorway, arms laden with groceries. "...who?"

 

Fuck.

 

Frantically, Yoochun steps away from the spoon Jaejoong's pressed to his lips and tries to offer a compelling explanation but Junsu and Yihan will be over soon so he can't introduce Jaejoong as just a friend but he can't fucking introduce him as a _boyfriend_ to his mother, Jesus—

 

"...Jaejoong," is all he manages to say, heart pounding.

 

"Sorry for using your kitchen without permission," Jaejoong bows apprehensively, bangs sweeping over his forehead.

 

Yoochun's mother stares, mouth open.

 

A potato rolls to the floor.

 

"We're dating," Yoochun blurts out because his brain is also a potato.

 

Lightning-fast, Jaejoong straightens, face flushed, eyes flashing in disapproval.

 

"Hyung. I won't lie to my mom," Yoochun tells him and he means to add the whole _it's fake_ thing but his mother haltingly lowers the groceries to the counter and

 

flings her arms around Jaejoong.

 

"I don't have to cook anymore," she says emotionally, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

 

 

 

*

 

 

"You're what."

 

Awkward, Yoochun tries to meet Yoohwan's eyes.

 

"...dating..." he grunts, headache hammering away.

 

Yoohwan glances down the hallway, half-slumped against a coat rack, one shoe still on. "You know that's a dude, right."

 

"Look," Yoochun starts but Yoohwan lurches forward, shoved out of the way by the front door.

 

"Am I early," Junsu greets, bursting into the house.

 

Behind him, Yihan holds up a palm in greeting, some girl draped over his arm.

 

"Hyung's dating a man," Yoohwan tells Junsu, aghast.

 

"...yes..." Junsu mumbles guiltily, "...weird how that happened."

 

"A _man_ ," Yoohwan says over Junsu's head, pleading with Yihan.

 

"Yeah." Yihan falters. "Can we come in?"

 

 

*

 

 

Listen, Yoochun's straight.

 

But this is bullshit.

 

"It's fine," he grumbles at Yoohwan and practically slams his head into an overfilled plate, "just try this."

 

Back bent painfully, Yoohwan bites into a cutlet, and pauses. "Oh. Okay."

 

 

 

*

 

 

Yihan introduces Yoochun to his date.

 

As "Jaejoong's Yoochun."

 

"Aw," she coos, coy, "that's too bad. I was just thinking you'd look really cute with my single unnie."

 

Yoochun perks up, but then notices the _noona trap_ written clearly across Yihan's evil face.

 

Fake or not, Yoochun is loyal and no amount of hot noonas is going to distract him from—

 

"Here's a picture," Yihan's date says slyly, sliding her phone across the table.

 

Yoohwan leans in on one side.

 

Junsu scoots closer on the other.

 

Fuck.

 

Well, still.

 

...no amount of hot noonas...

 

"Our Jaejoongie is prettier," Yoochun's mother comments in passing, carrying a stack of dishes.

 

Jaejoong pokes his head out of the kitchen. "Sorry?"

 

Yoochun turns to look.

 

Jaejoong _is_ prettier.

 

 

*

 

 

 

Ten minutes in, Yihan's guard is down, Junsu is loud and obnoxious and relaxed, Yoohwan's lowkey trying to steal Yihan's date, and Yoochun just... really... wants to be in the kitchen.

 

So he sneaks off, unrepentant.

 

"I was going to do it," Jaejoong angsts, palming the sink in distress, dramatically backlit by a flickering lightbulb. "I was going to end it today but then your mother—"

 

Yoochun scowls.

 

It's nowhere near Christmas.

 

"Why didn't you tell me you were living with your family," Jaejoong demands, turning betrayed eyes to Yoochun.

 

Slowly, Yoochun gestures at the assortment of framed photographs decorating literally the entire house, including the kitchen.

 

"Oh," Jaejoong breathes, crumpling against the sink.

 

Yoochun inches closer, intent on ignoring the piles of stress-cooked food before him.

 

Jaejoong turns his head sideways to look.

 

Then straightens and grabs Yoochun's wrist, parking it by a sauce pan. "Try."

 

Comfortable, Yoochun lets Jaejoong guide his hand to the spoon and then to his mouth and then Yoochun's tongue flattens beneath an onslaught of sweet syrupy goodness and he mumbles, helplessly, "I love you."

 

Jaejoong freezes.

 

"Shut up," he huffs, annoyed, and lets go.

 

"I love you," Yoochun tells the spoon insistently.

 

" _Boys_ ," Yoochun's mother cries happily, breezing by with a hamper of laundry.

 

Jaejoong blanches, flustered.

 

"We can deal until Christmas," Yoochun shrugs, licking his lips.

 

 

*

 

Yoochun's only going because it's a bank holiday.

 

And it's only fair he infiltrate Jaejoong's family because Yoochun's family's practically adopted Jaejoong without Yoochun's permission, so Yoochun rolls out of bed and walks one neighborhood over and skids to a stop in front of a lovingly-tended garden, palms pressing to the low stone wall lining it.

 

Jaejoong's knee-deep in sweet potato leaves, swinging a couple of baby girls around the way a juggler would and for a moment Yoochun is more worried Jaejoong's secretly married than for the safety of tiny squealing children.

 

"Uncle," one squeals, pointing at Yoochun on the downswing, pigtails flying, "stranger!"

 

Alarmed, Jaejoong spins on his heel, one kid tucked under each arm.

 

"Oh. That's just my—" Jaejoong starts with a surprised smile. "...friend."

 

"Boyfriend," Yoochun corrects for no fucking reason, unlatching the low gate and letting himself into the garden.

 

"Uncle's too pretty for you," one of the girls says, eyeing Yoochun judgmentally, arms crossed over her tiny chest.

 

Undeterred, Yoochun pulls out his phone and crouches down by her. "Which puppy do you like."

 

The girl pauses, considering. "...you can have uncle."

 

 

*

 

 

"What are you doing," Jaejoong groans after his mother's energetically pinched Yoochun's ass for the seventh time.

 

"Revenge," Yoochun says under his breath and grabs a seat by the heater.

 

Confused, Jaejoong scrunches up his nose, joining him. "Junsu and Yihan aren't here—"

 

"Against you," Yoochun explains casually, dipping into a side pocket and slapping a bag of homemade tea at Jaejoong's chest. "My family says hi and also when are you coming over again."

 

"...it's not my fault I'm charming," Jaejoong defends with an indecent pout.

 

Yoochun would like to argue but he can't.

 

Mainly because one of Jaejoong's noonas is shyly staring at him across the room, half-hidden by a cabinet.

 

"...how many sisters do you have," Yoochun asks nervously as a small horde starts for him.

 

Jaejoong leans back against the heater, grin stretching his face. "So many."

 

Two of the noonas drag chairs over, mouths curling.

 

Expertly, Jaejoong's tiny niece fends them off and climbs into Yoochun's lap, pawing for his phone, and purposefully announces to the room, "Ahjussi belongs to uncle."

 

 

*

 

 

He's only going because it's lunch break.

 

Except there's a line wrapping around the building, a mob of schoolgirls lining up for Jaejoong's shop, phones out and snapping selcas.

 

Puzzled, Yoochun looks for an opening because this is his boyfriend's restaurant and he should get special treatment and how does Seoul even have this many schoolgirls?

 

"Sorry," he says to a dormant pack as he shoulders his way into the building.

 

There's offended hissing and a slew of outraged insults thrown at him, but Yoochun's too busy trying to make his way to the counter, incredulously gaping at the tables full of uneaten food.

 

"They're not eating it," he complains to Jaejoong, eyes wide. "Hyung. They're not eating any of it."

 

Jaejoong turns around, startled.

 

His mouth twitches.

 

"They're not here for the food," he brags, flipping his bangs, one cheek stained by soy sauce, and leans on the counter with a smirk.

 

"What else would they be here for..." Yoochun asks, completely baffled.

 

Jaejoong refuses to serve him lunch.

 

 

*

 

 

"I got it from a customer."

 

Yoochun squints at the stack of plywood sheets resting against a kennel. "What."

 

"I figured you could use them at the rescue," Jaejoong mumbles, strangely sheepish, and gestures vaguely at the teeth marks peppering most of the makeshift cages.

 

Yoochun spends the rest of the day staring at plywood, battling indigestion.

 

 

*

 

"I got it from a customer."

 

Jaejoong looks up from unloading a crate of spinach. "...it's not puppy meat, is it."

 

"...that's dark," Yoochun replies, grossed out, and puts the block of nicely-wrapped meat atop the cooling grill, scanning the empty restaurant. "It's venison."

 

Jaejoong gives him a tiny half-smile and then it's habit.

 

Coffee before work, lunch during, loot after.

 

 

*

 

 

"To make amends," Yihan apologizes, proffering a white envelope.

 

Suspicious, Yoochun accepts, peeking inside. "...hot springs?"

 

With an uncomfortable wince, Junsu spreads one informative palm. "For you and hyung."

 

"For..." Yihan adds, just as uneasy, "setting you up as a joke and then for... doubting your sincerity."

 

Guilt pricks at Yoochun's chest for a brief moment but then he's enthusiastically grabbing for his phone and texting Jaejoong.

 

"I'll want details," Yihan chuckles, amused.

 

"I won't," Junsu sighs mournfully.

 

 

*

 

 

"Happy fake two-week anniversary," Yoochun sighs with pleasure, arms spreading wide to hug a large damp rock, hot springs lapping at his thighs.

 

"It's not new chairs," Jaejoong concedes compassionately, "but it's a nice start."

 

"When we break up," Yoochun tells the rock, relaxed and peaceful, "you ask for chairs, and I'll ask to come back here."

 

Silence descends.

 

The springs cool.

 

 

*

 

 

"You're staying in the... same room?" the concierge asks awkwardly, eyes darting behind her.

 

"Yes," Jaejoong says, frowning.

 

"It's just that it's..." the concierge falters, "...a couple suite..."

 

"We're a couple," Yoochun tells her, uncaring.

 

An older dude with _manager_ engraved into his nametag steps up to the counter. "It seems as though that particular room was... double-booked tonight. We're sorry but you'll need to find accommodations elsewhere."

 

Stunned, Yoochun blinks.

 

And then he grabs Jaejoong's hand, indignant, and drags him away, growling, "Bullshit."

 

 

*

 

 

"It's bullshit," Yoochun rants, slamming pillows to his bed.

 

"It's fine," Jaejoong shrugs, fixing the sheet corners.

 

"It's not fine," Yoochun snaps, incensed, "it's bullshit."

 

"I live fifteen minutes away," Jaejoong whines, smoothing his side of the bed, "why do I have to stay here."

 

"Because we're protesting," Yoochun growls incoherently, sick with disappointment.

 

"You boys need anything," Yoochun's mother asks happily, poking her head in, tray of snacks and soju bottles resting in her hands.

 

 

*

 

 

"It's bullshit," Jaejoong slurs drunkenly.

 

Yoochun curls deeper into the sheet, cocooned. "The room was paid for," he agrees angrily, the neck of an empty bottle between his lips. "If I wanted to bring a _goat_ with me, they should've let me."

 

Jaejoong pauses, twisted in the sheets next to him.

 

"...Yoochunnie," he starts with an authoritative admonishing tone, then buries his head in Yoochun's pillow, cackling helplessly.

 

Warm and stupidly happy, Yoochun kicks him and says, "Sleep, hyung."

 

 

*

 

 

"You're too pretty for him," Yoohwan greets in the morning, towering over the bed with his phone out, camera shutter clicking.

 

"Thank you," Yoochun grins into the pillow, Jaejoong's arm warming the back of his neck.

 

"Not you," Yoohwan drawls and rains clothes all over the bed.

 

Jaejoong's toes move against Yoochun's shin as he stretches.

 

Yoochun closes his eyes.

 

 

*

 

 

"You promised me a puppy," Jaejoong's niece huffs, running up to him with vengeance, creepy broken doll held out like a crucifix.

 

"If I get you a puppy," Yoochun reasons, kneeling to fix the left side of her bangs, "your uncle's gonna steal it."

 

She pauses to think, then brings big sad eyes to him, focused like a laser.

 

"How about a kitten..." she pouts, adding a pointed, manipulative, " _uncle_."

 

Yoochun brings her two.

 

 

*

 

 

Jaejoong shows up unannounced.

 

Which is fine.

 

Except Yoochun's knee-deep in skeins and patterns and Yoohwan's letting Jaejoong into the living room with an airily condescending, "This is your life now."

 

Jaejoong freezes, uncomprehending.

 

"It's..." Yoochun starts, eyes dead, face flushed, a set of needles stabbed through a tiny knitted cape. "It helps the animals get adopted. I only do it because—it helps. Hyung. The animals."

 

Gleeful, Jaejoong collapses on the couch next to him, hands covering his mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners, shoulders shaking.

 

"This," he starts, laughing adorably, breathless, wheezing, "is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

 

"It gets worse," Yoochun grins because fuck it, Jaejoong may as well know everything, "I'm allergic to animals."

 

Jaejoong howls with laughter.

 

 

*

 

_23:06 wanna go to the river_

 

 

*

 

 

The Han river's kind of frozen.

 

So Yoochun shifts closer on the bench, warming himself on the furnace he knows as Jaejoong.

 

A couple of businessmen stroll by, briefcases clutched under one arm, giving them dirty looks.

 

Spiteful, Yoochun wraps his shawl around Jaejoong's neck, too.

 

"Why'd you want to come to the river," he asks Jaejoong, breath misting.

 

Jaejoong buries his hands in Yoochun's coat pocket.

 

"No reason."

 

 

*

 

 

"Wow," Yihan praises semi-sarcastically, stuffing a pamphlet in Yoochun's hands, "congratulations."

 

"Thanks," Yoochun says, skimming over the playbill. "On what."

 

Shrewdly, Yihan scrutinizes his face for a moment, then offers, "This is officially your longest relationship."

 

Yoochun's not aware he's in a relationship but also, what the hell, he's had decent relationship longevity and—oh god. A month. He's been fake-dating Jaejoong for a month. Which makes his longest, most successful relationship one with a dude he's pretending to bang.

 

"Did you forget your anniversary," Yihan worries, flicking Yoochun's forehead.

 

Yoochun forgot way more than that.

 

 

*

 

 

"Happy anniversary," Jaejoong says, overly-sweet, pushing a plate down the counter and turning to Junsu with an even more syrupy, "thank you for Yoochun, Junsu-yah."

 

Junsu holds up a flattered hand. "I'm just glad you're not into public displays of affection."

 

Belatedly, the words register but by then, Jaejoong is already leaning over the counter and kissing Yoochun's cheek.

 

Junsu balks.

 

Yoochun doesn't.

 

 

*

 

 

He can't sleep.

 

Frustrated, he unlocks his phone and accidentally pulls up his contacts. Unprompted, the screen flashes his favorites—automatically populated by call and text history and it's Jaejoong.

 

Jaejoong's listed first.

 

 

 

*

 

 

"How do you feel about tattoos."

 

Jaejoong yawns, curled up with a napping baby owl atop the weighing station, waiting for Yoochun to close up. "What."

 

"I have a coupon," Yoochun says, overly aloof. "Buy one get one free."

 

Jaejoong sits up, alert.

 

"Okay."

 

 

*

 

 

"What'd you get," Yihan asks, traumatized, bottle of soju frozen midway to his mouth.

 

Jaejoong tugs his collar down, revealing a scrawl of ink across his heart, pink around the edges.

 

Junsu's eyes widen, chopsticks clattering to the table. "And Yoochunnie..."

 

Pleased, Jaejoong reaches to his left and pulls Yoochun's collar down, too, easily, familiarly, and presents the design.

 

"Oh no," Junsu starts.

 

"They match," Yihan finishes.

 

 

*

 

 

Yoochun's dying.

 

His nose doesn't exist anymore probably and his head is trash and his throat is lava.

 

"Hyung," Yoohwan eulogizes, dropping off a glass of water. "What'd you leave me in your will."

 

"Everything but Jaejoong," Yoochun manages drowsily, clawing at his ears in an attempt to unplug them.

 

"...we should call him," Yoochun's mother says with concern.

 

Yoochun has a moment of pure unbridled joy before he passes out.

 

 

*

 

 

There's a soft fizzy sound by his head and warm fingers cupping his face, tilting it up.

 

"It's vitamins," Jaejoong says softly, circling his thumb down Yoochun's jaw and bringing a cup to Yoochun's lips.

 

"It's the plague, hyung," Yoochun warns with a valiant sip, making a feeble attempt to push Jaejoong away. "Save yourself."

 

"Pointless without you," Jaejoong says maybe.

 

 

*

 

 

"Uncle," their niece sermonizes at the gate, staring up at Yoochun with reproach, "why are you're letting uncle die."

 

So Yoochun worriedly bypasses several nagging noonas, cheeks dimpling out of habit as he slips off his shoes, and rushes for Jaejoong's room.

 

Jaejoong's room is cold and dark enough to house a depressed vampire and the plague will definitely claim him like this.

 

"Don't," Jaejoong rasps, congested, as Yoochun pulls the curtains apart, letting a burst of sunshine in. "You can't see me like this."

 

Grumbling, Yoochun cleans up the gross tissues strewn across the floor, then crouches by Jaejoong's bed, feels his forehead, and brushes his sweaty bangs away.

 

Sad, Jaejoong meets his eyes, looking stupidly beautiful.

 

"If I die," he says melodramatically, capturing Yoochun's wrist, "make sure they buy me those new chairs."

 

"Okay," Yoochun laughs, caressing Jaejoong's cheek with care.

 

 

*

 

 

In the morning, at the coffee shop, the standard playlist ticks over into Christmas music.

 

Yoochun's circulation cuts off for reasons unknown.

 

 

*

 

_22:11 i have to attend a seminar in busan, see you next week_

 

Yoochun doesn't reply to the message because it's just one week and it's not like Junsu or Yihan are around and so Yoochun doesn't have to pretend.

 

He texts a noona instead, weirdly anxious.

 

 

*

 

 

Noona says _I missed you_ , and Yoochun says _yeah me too_ but when he kisses her, in the last row of a deserted movie theater, his gut knots, mouth numb and disinterested.

 

 

*

 

Yoochun only goes because he likes Busan.

 

"YOOCHUNNIE," Jaejoong shouts, sounding hoarse and relieved, leaning over the balcony of his hotel room and waving him over almost demonically.

 

And so Yoochun skips the elevator and climbs the stairs three at a time and sprawls across Jaejoong's bed, panting, and listens to him ramble about business management unto infinity, nuzzling Jaejoong's pillow and when Jaejoong cannonballs beside him, Yoochun smiles idiotically, completely attentive.

 

 

*

 

 

For Junsu's birthday, they meet up early and Jaejoong says, with a playful soul-shattering smile, "We can get away with buying him _one_ present now," and Yoochun gives him an impressed appreciative smile.

 

"We can buy _everyone_ one present now," he says, indulging some poorly-thought-out math.

 

Giddy, Jaejoong gives him a quick celebratory hug.

 

Yoochun responds in an equally manly fashion, locking his arms around Jaejoong's waist, face achy with the force of his grin.

 

 

*

 

 

"I'm just thankful," Junsu assures them again, deep in the depths of a cheap noraebang, "that you're not all over each other on this, the day of my birthday."

 

Jaejoong glances at Yoochun, one perfect eyebrow raised.

 

In silent agreement, Yoochun practically slithers under Jaejoong's skin, sharing the couch, melded to his side, fingers digging into Jaejoong's shoulder protectively, like Jaejoong's body is allergic to gravity and will float away, will just ruthlessly get sucked into space otherwise.

 

"...why do I do this to myself," Junsu mourns and resolutely faces the screen, raising the mic to his lips, back turned.

 

And because there's a long depressing update of Christmas songs on the machine, Yoochun presses closer, almost desperately, touches Jaejoong more, watches him like gravity really is rebelling.

 

 

*

 

Groggy, Yoochun stumbles into his bathroom.

 

His toothbrush is resting next to Jaejoong's which should be weird but there can never be enough toothbrushes because dental hygiene is important and because Yoochun is in love.

 

Yoochun is so stupidly in love it's embarrassing.

 

Lightheaded, he gets into the shower and Jaejoong's anti-dandruff shampoo is there, too, Jaejoong's neon-orange loofah hangs suspended above Yoochun's neon-green loofah, and beyond the stall, there are towels they bought together because there was a sale.

 

Shaking, Yoochun leans under the spray, hair slicked back, and thinks about Jaejoong's ugly knobby knees and Jaejoong's flat chest and his very muscular, very dude-like shoulders—because Jaejoong is definitely a dude and Yoochun doesn't find dudes attractive—and how much he wants between those ugly knobby knees and under that flat chest and muscular dude-like shoulders.

 

 

*

 

 

"Bum's is for sale," Jaejoong sniffles matter-of-factly, adjusting his shawl, nose pressed to the display window.

 

Beanie dusted with snowflakes, Yoochun opens his mouth to say _hyung, I'm going to grow old with you whether you like it or not_ , but a noona walks by, shoving violently at his shoulder.

 

"Unnie said you didn't call her back," she greets, salty, lips a thin angry line. "Is your phone broken."

 

Jaejoong's brows knit together with innocent concern as he reaches for Yoochun's phone. "It seemed okay this morning..."

 

"You can't just make out with her," noona chides, furious, "and then not call for a week."

 

Jaejoong freezes.

 

Yoochun, on the other hand, burns up.

 

"When did you..." Jaejoong starts, then clearly does the math, features hardening.

 

"Hyung," Yoochun starts desperately, panic unfurling, "it wasn't—I didn't—that doesn't—"

 

"It's fine," Jaejoong smiles coldly, waving him off with a dismissive air, "it's not like we're dating or anything."

 

 

*

 

 

"Uncle's not home," their niece scowls, tiny arms folded over her puffy coat, heavy hat slipping over her eyes. "He told me to tell you that. _Ahjussi_."

 

Brokenhearted, Yoochun pets her head with a hopeless mumble, mentally calculating whether there are enough puppies in Korea to fix this. "I just need to see him for a little bit."

 

"...uncle," she allows grudgingly and Yoochun's heart mends itself a piece, "you did a bad thing so I won't let you in."

 

Jaejoong's noonas nod in agreement, guarding the front door, an army of deformed snowmen posted as sentinels flanking them.

 

Jaejoong's mother watches from the window, surreptitiously waving him around the back.

 

But Jaejoong's youngest noona says, "Go reflect, Yoochun-ah."

 

So Yoochun does.

 

 

*

 

 

Yoochun's going to die.

 

His soul hurts, ragged with a sense of loss, miserable and defective, and he stares at his phone for a whole day.

 

But Jaejoong doesn't reply.

 

 

*

 

 

_07:47 meet me at the mall around noon_

 

Yoochun almost teleports, bundled up, excited, because it's Christmas Eve and Jaejoong is talking to him again and though Yoochun's aware this is probably a prelude to that huge break-up fight Jaejoong originally vowed to wage, Yoochun doesn't care.

 

He gets there at 08:33 and ambushes a store clerk, thrusting his card and senselessly pointing at the furniture aisle.

 

 

*

 

Jaejoong toddles by at exactly 11:59, wary, reserved, glaring at Yoochun through narrowed distrustful eyes.

 

Yoochun's heart reaches out hungrily.

 

"We're meeting Yihan at his place," Jaejoong says mechanically.

 

"I kissed her but I didn't like it," Yoochun assures him urgently, stalking toward Jaejoong, intent.

 

"And Junsu's coming over at eight," Jaejoong continues, steadfastly ignoring Yoochun.

 

Yoochun backs him into the mall directory.

 

There's a bright red _you are here_ sticker by Jaejoong's left shoulder, near his heart, and Yoochun thinks, yeah, and says, "Hyung. I didn't like it."

 

"We can break up after dinner," Jaejoong barrels on stubbornly, glaring, eyes wet, and oh god—oh god—maybe Jaejoong would be okay growing old with Yoochun, too, so Yoochun traps him against the directory and

 

kisses Jaejoong like kissing Jaejoong is his birthright.

 

Pale, shaking, Jaejoong pushes him off.

 

Several mothers tug their kids along, appalled, crowd parting around them in fascinated horror.

 

"I bought you that," Yoochun reasons, panting, lips throbbing, and points at the store behind him. "I got you new chairs because if you get new chairs we don't have to break up."

 

Jaejoong pauses.

 

"Oh thank god," he breathes and crushes his mouth to Yoochun's like he's trying to split him open.

 

 

*

 

 

They buy Junsu a case of regrowth shampoo and two tickets to Yihan's next play and skip dinner altogether.

 

 

*

 

 

On Christmas Day, Jaejoong's father tosses the newspaper at them and says gruffly, "That place you like is for sale. Put in an offer."

 

Yoochun looks up from braiding his niece's hair as part of his mandatory atonement, feet tangled with Jaejoong's by the dangerously-overloaded Christmas tree, and says, "Bum's is for sale."

 

Jaejoong considers, smile tugging at his lips, and says, "We should put in an offer."


End file.
